Date: Tue, 22 Aug 2006 23:22:48 +1000
From: NS
Subject: An Ill Wind

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any actual person, living
or dead, is accidental and unintended. The story is for reading by, and
only by, persons 18 or older.


"National Service" is what the authorities prefer to call it; but
compulsory military service is what is really is.  Liable to call-up in the
first intake after the 18th birthday.  Liable to serve for six unbroken
months.  No say over where the training is done.  No say over who gets to
be in the same hut for the six months.

Put thirteen 18-year old boys into that situation and sooner or later
someone is going to get up to some serious mischief.  Ban lap-tops, ipods
and, worst of all, mobile phones and serious mischief will almost certainly
turn into a cocktail of horseplay, boredom and sex.  Add in the fact that
tonight is the highlight of the whole 6 months because tomorrow morning
it's all over and everyone goes back to life as usual in the real world,
and that cocktail has reached what a winemaker would call its "optimum
drinking time".

As one such 18 year-old was now finding out at first hand.

***************************************

The confined area of the inside of the hut seemed to make everything larger
than life: the writhing bodies; the hubbub of voices, kept down barely
enough to avoid attracting unwanted official interest from outside the hut;
the smell of sweat; and the unmistakable atmosphere of raw sexual
excitement.

At the centre of all the activity was Jason Roberts.  He was writhing in
attempted resistance; but it was nothing more than a gesture in the face of
the combined strength of the six pairs of strong hands, some of which were
pinning him firmly to the floor, and the others of which were
enthusiastically and none too gently stripping him naked.

Jason had been, naturally, surprised when they had jumped him.  Surprise
had become anxiety when voices told him that he was about to lose every
stitch of clothing.  Anxiety had become a mixture of panic and of cold fear
when the voices told him, with plenty of suggestive detail, what was going
to happen to him as soon as his stripping had been completed.

*******************************************

If you are going to be kept for 6 unbroken months in uncomfortably close
quarters with 12 other restless and sexually excitable 18 year-olds, then
you need at the very least a lot of good luck in the allocation of places.
Jason could scarcely have had worse luck.

Jason came from a country family.  The area in which the family lived was
centered on a large country town containing about 5,000 or so inhabitants.
The economy of the town centered upon two activities: farming was one; and
a major railway repair -- works was the other.

Jason's father was a leading citizen in the town. He owned and operated one
of the most successful vineyards in an area renowned for the quality of the
wines that it produced.  He owned and operated as well a hugely successful
motor vehicle and agricultural machinery business.  Jason was an only
child; and his parents, determined to give him the best possible education,
had sent him away to boarding school at the commencement of. his secondary
schooling.  A result had been that Jason had lost all real contact with the
boys of his age with whom he had been at primary school.

Jason's call-up papers had required him to attend a pre-draft medical
examination in his home town.  When he had done so, he had discovered that
a large group of boys with whom he had attended primary school had been
called up in the same intake.  When, subsequently, Jason had reported for
duty and had been transported to the camp in which he would do his 6 months
of service, he had found himself billeted in a hut with a very mixed bag of
fellow conscripts, all of whom he knew from his childhood days, but all of
whom had followed very different educational paths from Jason's own.  Jason
had realized that he had nothing much in common with his hut-mates, and
that he would have to make a real effort to get along with them if the
forthcoming 6 months were to be endurable.  Of course, it was not lost on
the hut-mates that Jason was different from them, and that the root of the
difference lay in advantages that had come from being a rich man's only
son.  This was not, to put the point mildly, a good start from Jason's
point of view.

There was worse to come.

Jason was, in any company, a striking young man.  He was tall and
well-proportioned. His features were markedly good-looking.  His years at
boarding school had given him poise and confidence.  A good student, he had
made the most of the opportunities offered by an academically distinguished
school.  He had been a Prefect and a Cadet Under-Officer.  All in all, an
attractive all-rounder.

It was the practice of the military authorities to select one of the boys
in each hut to be Hut Corporal, and Jason was appointed for his hut.  The
duties were not burdensome, but there were real privileges for the boy who
was chosen.

First, he was assigned a room of his own, located at one end of the hut.
It was small, but it was at least private.  It could be locked, and so was
much more secure than the general dormitory-style accommodation that took
up the bulk of the hut.  At the same end of the hut, and across a short and
narrow corridor, was a somewhat larger private room which was occupied by a
Regular Army member who had been assigned to the general supervision of the
boys in the particular hut.

Secondly, the Hut Corporal spent each day attending a specialized training
course for Hut Corporals.  The course had been provided because it had been
recognized by the authorities that a boy appointed to be a Hut Corporal
would normally have been a successful school cadet, and so would not need
the ground-up basic training of the other conscripts.  For a boy like Jason
that was a decided plus.  It had, however, a downside, namely that the Hut
Corporal tended to be, and to be seen by the boys in his hut as being,
apart from, and even aloof from, his 12 hut companions.

As the 6 months had passed, Jason had established a friendly enough
relationship with his hut companions; but had not been particularly engaged
with them except on occasions when he had been called upon to break up a
fight, or otherwise to keep general order in the hut, especially at times
when the assigned Regular Army monitor had been absent with leave, as
happened frequently at night.  He had witnessed plenty of rough horseplay
among his hut companions, but, except for keeping an eye on the general
order of the hut, had taken the view that it was better for him not to
become involved in such high-jinks. "Do ye therefore unto others as ye
would have them do unto ye" seemed to Jason to be eminently sensible advice
for dealing with such situations.

************************************

And now the 6 months was over and done with.  The Army did not provide
anything in the way of formal recognition of the fact other than a formal
march-out, which had taken place early this morning, and would be followed
tomorrow morning by a general dismissal of the conscripts to their homes.

It was recognised, however, that 18year-old boys being what they are, there
would be inevitably a good deal of blowing off of accumulated steam on
their last night in camp. The Regulars had all been given leave for the
night.  Strongly worded warnings had been given about what would happen to
anyone who trashed Army property.  A later than usual "lights out" had been
set.  Otherwise the boys were left to their own devices.

It was probably inevitable that there would take root in the minds of
Jason's fellows the idea that the last night of camp would be an ideal time
to trash, not Army property, but their Hut Corporal, thereby making up in
some way for the privileges that he had enjoyed during the past 6 months.
As the final night drew nearer, such an idea did in fact take root and grew
steadily stronger, fuelled by a niggling resentment of the way Jason had
matured in ways to which they themselves could not aspire.

The idea was pushed in particular by half a dozen of the boys who were
apprentices at the railway repair works.  It was no secret among the boys
in the town and its surrounding area that any new apprentice at the railway
works did a short period of probation which, if completed satisfactorily,
led to a formal apprenticeship; and that the formal apprenticeship was
marked by a tough initiation ceremony which, although formally banned by
the management, was carried out nevertheless by the other apprentices with
the tacit approval of the foremen in charge of the actual workings of the
shop-floor.  The new apprentice, having been told in a joking way about the
practice, would be left untouched long enough for him to think that he was
going to be spared the experience.  Then, just when it was obvious that his
anxieties on that score had disappeared, he would be lured into a remote
corner of the most remote of the workshop buildings, and there would be
grabbed by the senior apprentices and made to hold tightly onto a bar
suspended from a moving gantry.  The bar would then be raised so that the
apprentice's feet were just resting on the ground.  Then, with much
suggestive banter and mockery, the victim's boots, socks and overalls would
be stripped slowly off; his underpants would then be even more slowly
peeled away; and his balls and butt would be sprayed thoroughly with grease
fired at them from a loaded grease gun.  This rite of passage, which the
railway apprentices had all undergone, was the basis of the plans which now
began to take shape in careful secrecy as to what might be done to Jason.

**********************************

The first phase of the plan called for a couple of the boys to act as
decoys to keep Jason occupied outside the hut until everybody and
everything was in readiness, and then to escort him in a normal and
unsuspicious way into the hut where the trap would be waiting to be sprung.

The boys chosen for this job were white-collar workers: one an insurance
clerk; the other a management trainee at the local Council.  They were, it
was calculated, the boys least likely to make Jason suspicious that
something was afoot.  They were encouraged to do their part by a promise
that if they failed in their task, they would be tied, naked, face to face
and dumped in a dark and distant corner of the parade ground where they
would make a pretty sight when discovered tomorrow in broad daylight.

As Dr. Johnson famously remarked: if you tell a man that he is to be hanged
tomorrow you will normally find that his mind becomes concentrated
wonderfully.  So it was with the two decoys.  Directly following the
evening mess they struck up an easy conversation with Jason, strolling
together with him through the lines until the agreed time for their return
to the hut.  It was all very companionable and normal.  Jason suspected
nothing.

The three boys reached their hut shortly after nightfall.  The hut was in
darkness except for a faint light coming from the far end of the interior.

The boys entered the hut.  The remaining 10 hut members were milling about
in no particular way.  Some of them started talking to Jason, distracting
him from noticing that two of the biggest and strongest of the railway boys
had slipped quietly into place behind him.  In an instant the two had
grabbed Jason's arms, forcing them behind his back in a powerful grip which
Jason was unable, try as he might, to break.

Things moved quickly.

Jason was propelled forward to the farthest end of the hut and wrestled to
the floor.  He heard the door of the hut close.  The windows, small and not
shedding much light into the hut even during the day, had been simply but
effectively masked.  The light which Jason had noticed from outside the hut
was strong enough to light up anything happening inside the hut, but not
strong enough to catch the causal attention of anyone passing by outside
the hut.

The full group of 6 railway boys now joined in the restraining of Jason.

"Yell, Jason baby, and we'll gag you for the duration with the dirtiest
socks we can find, and there are plenty right here," he heard a voice
murmur with quiet menace into his ear.  "Just remember that old school tie
stiff upper lip bit."

Jason's shoes and socks were pulled roughly off.  His shirt followed.

"And now, Corporal Roberts sir, for the best part", he heard the same voice
say.  And at once he felt the belt of his khaki pants being undone, and the
zipper being slowly and suggestively pulled down.  He continued to
struggle, but realising that he was going to get nowhere against the force
now pinning him in place.  He felt himself being lifted slightly, and his
pants being removed.

The atmosphere was electric.  Jason could smell the expectation in 12 pairs
of eyes now fixed on his one remaining bit of clothing.

The murmurs were coming from all sides.

"How about that?  Tighty-whities"

"Get them off"

" Yeah, slowly. Make the pretty boy squirm".

Jason felt fingers and thumbs slide into the waistband of his underpants,
and slowly peel them off.

Jason could hear the heavy breathing. He could feel a dozen pairs of eyes
roam over every inch of his nude body.  His heart was beating fast; his
head was whirling in shock and disbelief.  He could not begin to imagine
where things would go from here.

"Come on guys" he heard himself say, "please".

And again the voices from every angle.

"The rich kids don't look so different in the raw,eh?"

"Nice balls".

"Nice bush".

"Let's see him on the other side".

"Not yet.  This side first".

"Come on," He heard himself say again, `Give me a break".

"Don't be scared", he heard a cool voice reply. "We're not going to hurt
you.  We're just going to change how you look.  What about we start by
shaving your head?"

Jason went cold with horror.  He had blond, slightly waved hair.  People
often complimented him upon its appearance.  To have to go home tomorrow
with his hair butchered made his mind reel.

"Please", he begged, almost in tears, "please don't.  Not my head.
Please".

The same voice:

"We thought that's what you'd say.  So here's the deal.  Take it or leave
it.  For the next hour or so you take whatever we dish out.  It doesn't
matter what it is, you take it without a whimper.  At any time you can tell
us to stop, and we will; but we'll shave your head before we let you go.
And we don't mean a bit of a clip here and there.  We mean a full-on shave,
first with an electric shaver and then a finish-off with a razor. Think how
your folks and all your rich-kid friends will take that.  People either
feeling sorry for you or laughing at you week after week until you grow
your hair back.  Your call baby. Yes or no?"

"What are you going to do if I say yes?" said Jason, his voice not much
more than a shaky whisper.

"No ifs or buts.Yes or no?"

Jason tried to get his mind to think clearly enough to weigh up the
alternatives, but the very thought of that kind of head shave swamped every
other consideration.

"Yes," he murmured, "but please, nothing else way-out".

A ripple of excited triumph swept around the circle of boys.

"What did I tell you guys?" he heard the now familiar voice say. "I told
you that if we threatened a head shave he'd agree to almost anything to
stop it. Now let's get on with what we've decided to do to him"

"Now, Corporal sir" the same voice continued matter-of-factly,"Your head's
safe for the time being.  But we think we'll shave your balls. I'd keep
real still, if I was you".

Jason forced himself to say nothing and to stop any struggling, and watched
in helpless horror as some of the boys came up and knelt beside him.  They
were carrying a cordless electric shaver, a disposable razor, shaving soap
and a dish of warm water.  They set to work quickly and silently, and in a
matter of a few minutes Jason's balls had been shaved as clean as the
proverbial whistle and dried off .

"Right" said the voice. "Now string him up like we've planned. It'll be
easier that way to get at him"

Rough hands jerked Jason to his feet.  His hands were pulled together in
front of him. A very soft leather cuff was strapped around each wrist. A
metal bar about a foot in length was produced and each cuff was clipped
neatly into a cleat at each end of the bar. A thin chain was clipped to a
cleat at the top of the bar; the other end of the chain was thrown over a
rafter supporting the roof of the hut; and Jason's arms were drawn above
his heard until he was standing on the hut floor, his body stretched
upwards. At once a thick leather strip was wrapped around his mouth and
fastened firmly behind his head.

"We reckon" said the voice "that it's better if we gag you before we go on.
We don't want any noise to spoil our fun.  By the way, we all chipped in to
buy the cuffs and the other stuff at the local sex shop. Adds a nice touch
doesn't it?  Any time you want us to stop and go back to the head shave,
just make the right noises and we'll get the message".

There was now a flurry of activity, and two of the boys came up to Jason
each carrying a small pot and a thick cloth.  It took Jason a minute to
recognize the smell: boot polish. There was a murmur of excited voices:

"Rub it in good and strong"

"Yeah: smooth and thick".

Hands grabbed Jason's ankles, anchoring him in place, and the two boys set
about the blackening.  They worked quickly and efficiently, and in a very
short while Jason's cock and balls were as black as the ace of spades.

By now Jason was limp with shock and embarrassment.  Any temptation to
think that there was nothing much more that they could do to him
disappeared when he saw half a dozen of the boys approach each holding a
tube.  They set to immediately, squeezing a cream-looking substance out of
the tubes and rubbing it vigorously into Jason's helpless body: one on each
arm; one on each leg; one each on the front and rear of his torso.  It took
Jason a few minutes to realize from the smell of the substance that it was
in fact hair-cream.  In a matter of minutes his entire body, except for his
balls and his ass, had been thoroughly worked over with the cream.

Then a lull during which the other boys stood around their naked and
helpless victim surveying their handiwork.

"Please", Jason said to himself, "please let this be the end".

And so it was: almost but not quite.

"His ass hasn't been touched" said a voice from the group.

"Right on" replied the voice that had done most of the talking throughout
Jason's ordeal.  "We need a clean spot for our signatures"

"Our what?"

"Our signatures.  Let's get a texta-pen and brand his ass with our
initials."

Once more there was a murmur of agreement.  A pen was produced from
somewhere, (Jason was beyond caring about the fine details), and one by one
his 12 hut-mates came up behind him and wrote his initials on Jason's bare
ass.  Jason writhed inside with embarrassment, but called up every last bit
of self-control so as not to cry or to show in any other open way how
degraded and humiliated he was feeling.  He felt that, if he could only
manage to do that for a while then his tormentors would lose interest in
carrying on with their brutal ragging.

And that is more or less what happened.  The butt-signing over, Jason heard
the familiar voice:

"OK guys; let's call it quits.  Get him down and take him to the shower".

Jason felt his bonds loosen, and his arms fall free. His arms and shoulders
were aching terribly.  He had a bare couple of minutes during which to try
to rub a bit of life back into them, before being grabbed and hustled
unceremoniously out of the hut and into the shower room which was attached
to the rear of the hut and separated from it by a narrow concrete strip.
Inside the shower room Jason was plonked down on a bench. The gag was
removed.  He was conscious that something was put down beside him.  And
then he was alone.

Jason could not stop himself shaking. He sat on the bench for what seemed
like hours before he felt able to do anything.  When he finally forced
himself to stand up and to make some effort to clean the muck from his
body, he saw that a couple of clean towels, some industrial strength soap,
and a bottle of liquid dirt dissolver had been left on the bench.

Jason walked awkwardly into the shower and began to clean himself.  It was
a slow and sometimes painful business; but he began to make gradual
progress.  Suddenly, he heard a movement from just beyond the shower.  His
heart skipped a beat.  Surely, he thought, they've done enough.

"Jason, are you OK?" he heard someone say softly. And at the same moment he
saw standing a couple of feet away from him the insurance clerk and the
Council trainee. They were naked except for bath towels wrapped around
them. Before Jason could say anything, the trainee spoke:

"Jason", he said softly, "we feel rotten about what we did earlier tonight,
but they scared us by saying what they would do to us if we stuffed up.  We
just couldn't leave you here alone to clean up the sort of mess that you're
in.  So we told them that we were going to come and help and that they
could like it or shove it. Nobody said anything or tried to stop us, so
here we are.  You can chew us out if you want, but please let us do
something to make up for having helped get you into this mess".

Jason was emotionally whacked by the events of the night.  All he wanted
was to clean up as best he could, creep back into his little room; lock his
door, and be alone wrapped up safely in bed.  He gave a slight shrug of his
shoulders and a slight nod of his head.

At once the two other boys shucked their towels and stepped into the
shower, one on either side of Jason.  Working gently and efficiently, they
managed to get Jason pretty well cleaned off, except for the boot polish
upon which they could make very little progress.  Having done what they
could, they helped Jason dry off.  Jason stood still, his eyes closed, his
body limp.  He felt the tears, kept until now under control, well up.

And then, so quickly that the moment had passed before Jason had properly
realized what was happening, he felt each of the two boys kiss gently one
of his closed eyelids.  He felt two sets of arms fold gently around him.
He felt a towel fold around his waist.  He felt his feet begin to move.
When he next came properly to his senses, he was in his bed.  He drifted
almost at once into an untroubled sleep.

When he woke the following morning, he noticed on his bedside chest of
drawers a folded sheet of notepaper.  Opening it, he read:

"J.

We thought you were so brave last night.  We admire you a lot.

We have decided to flat together after our release today from this rotten
dump, and to start a new life together.  We would like you to be a part of
that life.  Please say yes."

The note was initialed by the clerk and by the trainee.

Jason sat for quite a while on the side of his bed, deep in thought.  Last
night was over and done with, and, being practical, nothing could be done
about what had happened.  These two particular boys had not been under any
obligation to help him as they had done.  Jason could see in his mind's eye
the two beautiful naked bodies wrapped around him in a soothing cocoon.  He
could still feel the soft touch of gentle and comforting lips on his
eyes. "Please say yes". A sudden stirring of his cock came like a sign .

"What", he asked himself "is that old saying? Yes, I remember.  It's an ill
wind that blows no good".

He nodded and smiled.